


The Library Of Stray Books

by stackcats



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:32:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stackcats/pseuds/stackcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack has stolen something from the Doctor, who will do pretty much anything to get it back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Library Of Stray Books

“Alright, Jack,” says the Doctor, in a pretty good impression of seriousness, “you’ve had your fun. Now give it back, there’s a good lad.”

Jack’s grin widens, if that’s even possible. He’s panting for breath, red in the face, after running from the Doctor through the winding corridors of the TARDIS. If he’s perfectly honest, he didn’t count on the Doctor walking in on him parading up and down in front of Rose, doing his best Lancashire accent, and saying things like ‘fantastic!’ and ‘run for your life!’ but he’s not complaining. The Doctor soundlessly raising his eyebrows and then lunging at him is definitely going to be one of those memories he treasures forever.

He’s stopped here because this room is a dead end. It’s some kind of old library, with dusty brown books strewn everywhere, and the Doctor is standing, arms folded, in the doorway. He’s wearing a tight black jumper that makes Jack’s brain fizz, and the kind of expression that promises something interesting is going to happen, and whether Jack will enjoy it or not depends entirely on what he does next.

But… the Doctor’s wrong. Jack hasn’t had his fun yet. He’s barely even started.

“Aww,” he says, “but it suits me way better than it suits you.”

“Oh, you think?”

“Like I said. U-boat captain. Whereas, on me? It looks hot.”

“No, just very shifty. Like you’re about to sell me Russian porn.”

Jack laughs. The Doctor takes a step into the room, and Jack hops backwards. There’s an elderly, brown leather couch just behind him. It’s covered in old books with titles so exceptionally boring that Jack gets the sudden urge to burn them all. Maybe later. Now, though, the Doctor is advancing, and there is absolutely no room for retreat.

Jack holds up a book in defence. “The Old Dog by Michael T. Williams, eh? Great read, one of my favourites.” He holds the hardback out at arm’s reach, as a mock shield, but the Doctor plucks it out of his hand and throws it aside. Then he grabs the lapels of his own coat, and tugs Jack sharply towards him. He rubs a thumb over the cracked leather.

“Can’t quite remember where I got this from, but I’m rather attached to it. So if you don’t mind…?” He tries to tug the coat down, but Jack folds his arms, making the move impossible.

The Doctor frowns. “Let me put this in terms you are incapable of resisting; Captain? Strip.”

“You really think I’m that easy?”

“Yep.”

“Well, you’re sadly mistaken, my friend. It’s going to take a bit more work than that.”

The Doctor actually looks impressed, although Jack suspects it’s less to do with his virtue, and more about his stubbornness.

“You’ve definitely got some balls, Jack, I’ll give you that.”

“Yup. I’ll show you ‘em if you like.”

“I thought you said you weren’t easy.”

“For educational purposes, obviously.”

“Oh, obviously.”

The Doctor looks around the room, to his left, and then to the right. Jack follows his gaze, wondering what, exactly, the Doctor is searching for, and he realises too late that in actual fact his attention has just been disarmed. The Doctor’s grip tightens on the leather coat, and he hauls Jack off his feet, dropping him, unceremoniously and with no grace at all, onto the sofa. Some of the books shift and slide off the edge, and even more follow them when the Doctor clambers up on top of Jack and pins his arms to his chest with one hand clamping Jack’s wrists together.

It would be impossible for the Doctor to ignore the unmistakable feel of a solid cock jabbing into his side, but Jack expects him to at least try. The Doctor, however, probably spotted Jack’s arousal long before he realised it himself.

In fact, he was probably counting on it.

He shifts his weight so that his back is against the back of the sofa, and hooks one leg over Jack’s, to help keep him pinned. And then the Doctor’s free hand brushes against Jack’s inner thigh.

“Okay, then, Captain. If it’s a game you want, it’s a game you get. That’s how things work on my ship, you see. I pander to my companions’ every stupid little whim, and in return they do exactly what I tell them. Savvy?”

“Savvy,” say Jack, who has already figured out that this is not how things work on board the TARDIS. It works for him, though. Especially if the Doctor’s breath is going to tickle his ear like that, and his right hand is going to continue its journey upwards…

The Doctor rubs his thumb, very lightly, over the straining bulge in Jack’s jeans, and then the hand is gone, trailing back down over their entwined legs. Jack’s hips give a little twitch, but he’s already figured out the rules of this game.

“I want to play something else.”

“I want my coat back.”

“You know, bribery works way better on me than sexual blackmail.”

The Doctor’s grin is wonderful, and more than a little disarming. Jack feels the grip on his wrists slacken, and he reaches out, hesitantly, to stroke the backs of his fingers down the Doctor’s throat. The Doctor doesn’t flinch, and nor does he give any sign of recognising the gesture as a test of trust.

“So. What game do you want to play?”

“Me?” says Jack. “I’m an old fashioned guy. I’ll play anything so long as the rules are simple, and, you know, I can actually get my cock out sometime soon.”

The Doctor chuckles as he hitches up Jack’s t-shirt. His taut, tanned skin looks especially dark against the white cotton, and framed by black leather. The Doctor pushes Jack’s shirt right up above his navel, until he finds what he’s after. Jack’s breath catches as cold fingers graze his nipple.

“Again,” says the Doctor, “what happened to that thing about you not being easy?”

“You may have noticed,” says Jack, trying – and mostly failing – to keep his voice steady, “that I’m in the habit of occasionally… pruning the truth.”

“Pruning,” says the Doctor, as his hand moves back to Jack’s jeans, and he begins to toy with the button.

“Into a nicer shape. Not exactly lying. I’m not easy, honest. I’m just generous, and… well, you. You do stuff to me.” He takes a shuddering breath as the Doctor opens his fly, easing some of the pressure. “You weaken me.”

“I get the blame for everything, me.”

“But you do.”

The Doctor’s hands were about to yank Jack’s jeans down over his hips, but he freezes, and his expression hardens.

“Bullshit, captain. I’m not who you lot seem to take me for. I don’t weaken you, I’ve got no special human-weakening powers. You see something that isn’t there, and you allow it to weaken you. I’m just an ordinary bloke, and one that doesn’t deserve the blame for your sluttish tendencies.”

Jack grins, and his hands settle either side of the Doctor’s face. “You saying that? Just makes me want you even more.”

“Oh, shut up, will you?” The Doctor gives a tug, and Jack’s jeans are flung across the room. “Yak, yak, yak. No wonder Earth’s getting warmer, the amount of hot air you overgrown apes give off.”

“I love your sex-talk too,” says Jack, layering on the sarcasm. “Global warming? The sparkling originality!”

The Doctor doesn’t say ‘shut up’ again, but achieves the desired effect by wrapping his cool fingers around Jack’s cock. At the same moment, he presses his lips to the delicate cove between collar bone and throat. He’s trying fairly hard to focus on his goal, his objective; the return of his leather coat, which has served as a second skin since the Time War. The Doctor is above seduction, he’s smarter than that, able to distance himself from temptations of the flesh, but…

“Hey, Doctor?” Jack murmurs. “If you think I can’t feel that, you’re an idiot.”

…Damn if it doesn’t actually suit Jack better. A lot better.

He pushes himself up, catches Jack’s eye, and the Captain’s eyes widen as the Doctor leans down to kiss him. Jack is far more submissive than the Doctor ever expected – not that he’s thought about it much, of course – but he certainly isn’t lazy. He links his fingers behind the Doctor’s head, thumb stroking the nape of his neck, as he lets the Doctor deepen the kiss. The way Jack leads without pushing annoys the Doctor a little bit, mostly because he’s letting himself be led. Jack’s tongue flickers against his, guiding him, almost instructing him, and his entire body does much the same thing. Tiny shifts in position hinting at the Doctor to touch him here or hold him there, and, while the Doctor is definitely the boss, Jack isn’t shy about asking for what he wants.

The Doctor breaks the kiss, and shifts slightly. He pats down the leather coat, to Jack’s bemusement, until he finds a slight bulge, then tugs at it, sliding his hand inside.

“Hey,” says Jack, clamping a hand around the collar. “No cheating.”

“I’m only looking for the inside pocket… here we go.” He tugs something out, attempting to look casual, but there’s no way Jack can pass this over without comment.

“No way,” he says. “You carry that around with you?”

The Doctor looks a bit hurt. “A guy can live in hope, right?”

“Yeah, but… you?”

“Oi.” The Doctor pinches Jack’s hip, sharply. “Like I said. I’m not quite who you and Rose – and most humans I’ve met – seem to think I am. And if I want to carry supplies around on the off-chance of meeting a handsome Captain with a penchant for petty theft and a leather fettish… well, I can if I bloody want, all right?”

“Suits me, honestly.” Jack’s surprise fades into a grin of anticipation as the Doctor settles between his legs – sending books skidding to the floor – and starts very carefully slicking Jack up. There’s an intensity in his eyes that Jack’s noticed before, but this is the first time it’s been focused on him. It’s scary, but Jack is good at scary. He likes scary.

The Doctor is methodical, but he doesn’t waste time, and he doesn’t wait for any more of Jack’s little hints. He shoves his own jeans down, then manoeuvres the Captain, with little regard to gentleness or care, into a better position. Jack, not wanting the situation to get too far away from him, wraps his legs firmly around the Doctor’s waist.

It’s far from comfortable, and the Doctor, while not actually selfish, is one of the least considerate fucks Jack has ever had. His attitude seems to be that Jack got himself into this, and if he doesn’t like the coat scrunched up under his armpits, or the books jabbing him in the back, or the pace that the Doctor sets, then tough; he’ll just have to go and trick someone else into sex next time.

And, somehow or another, it’s all the imperfections, the discomforts, and the Doctor’s casual attitude that take it from great sex, to fantastic. That, and the knowledge that this won’t – can’t – change anything Jack doesn’t want it to change.

The Doctor’s rhythm is slightly off, so that each thrust takes Jack a little by surprise. He tries to meet the Doctor’s timing, lifting his hips off the couch, but the frustration when he fails makes him growl. The Doctor spares a little sympathy and takes hold of Jack’s cock again, introducing yet another separate rhythm that makes Jack give up, throw his head back, and let the Doctor have his way.

The Doctor barely even shuts his eyes to blink, but keeps his gaze fixed with Jack’s the entire time, and the intensity in his face is, alone, enough to leave Jack breathless. He slides his hands behind the Doctor’s neck again, and holds on, letting that intensity take him over until, finally, something snaps. There’s a sound, but he’s not even sure it’s him making it, let alone whether it’s a shout, or a growl, or a laugh.

Jack’s entire body shudders, and he pulls the Doctor closer against him, as they both start to come down again. The Doctor doesn’t let Jack hold him for long. He gives Jack a quick nip – or possibly a kiss, with teeth – on the shoulder, before pushing himself off the sofa. He’s fully dressed again before Jack can remember how to breathe.

“So,” says the Doctor. “Can I have my coat back yet?”

Jack has to concede that he’s earned it. He sits up, sending the last few books scattering off the couch, and shrugs the rumpled, sweaty garment off his shoulders. The Doctor claims it, sniffs it, shrugs, and pulls it on. He grins at Jack, tucking the little tube back into the inside pocket.

“There,” he says. “I think everybody wins.”

Jack nods. He rubs at the shiny new bruise that’s blossoming on his side, and looks around the room. It doesn’t feel like a dead end any more. It feels like somewhere comfortable, to rest.

“So what is this place, anyway?”

The Doctor is leaning against a mahogany table. He runs his fingers, thoughtfully, over a cracked leather spine.

“It’s a library for books I’ve accumulated over the years without ever wanting or meaning too. Books I’ve been given. Most of them were brought on board by other people, and left here. I haven’t read anything in here, although sometimes one of them will catch my eye.”

Jack smirks, and looks away. “And you decide it was worth carrying around the whole time.”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

The Doctor tucks the book he was looking at into his pocket. He gives Jack’s ear a flick on the way past. It is probably, Jack concludes, a sign of affection.

When he reaches the doorway, the Doctor pauses, and looks back.

“By the way,” he says, “I’m going to start hanging my coat up in my bedroom from now on. Just in case you feel like nicking it again.”


End file.
